Archive for the tag “break-ups”

Two little words, one big concept. A belief that someone, somewhere, is holding the key to your heart and your dream house. All you have to do is find them. So, where is this person?And if you love someone and it didn’t work out, does that mean they weren’t your soul mate? Were they just a runner-up contestant in this game show called “Happily Ever After”?And, as you move from age box to age box and the contestants get fewer and fewer, are your chances of finding your soul mate less and less?

Yes! I have a past. I’ve been in love, I’ve had fuck buddies, girlfriends and “I probably shouldn’t have done that” moments. I come with baggage. There is nothing I can do to change that. In fact, I’d be lying if I told you I regret it. But I can tell you this; I’m in love with you.I want you. And even though I have history with these females, I’m committed to building a future with you. Let’s move forward together.

Turn down the lights, turn down the bedTurn down these voices inside my head
Lay down with me, tell me no lies
Just hold me close, don’t patronize – don’t patronize me

Cause I can’t make you love me if you don’tYou can’t make your heart feel something it won’t
Here in the dark, in these final hours
I will lay down my heart and I’ll feel the power
But you won’t, no you won’t
‘Cause I can’t make you love me, if you don’t

I’ll close my eyes, then I won’t see The love you don’t feel when you’re holding me
Morning will come and I’ll do what’s right
Just give me till then to give up this fight
And I will give up this fight

Cause I can’t make you love me if you don’t
You can’t make your heart feel something it won’tHere in the dark, in these lonely hours
I will lay down my heart and I’ll feel the power
But you won’t, no you won’t
‘Cause I can’t make you love me, if you don’t

“I was suffering the easily foreseeable consequences. Addiction is the hallmark of every infatuation-based love story. It all begins when the object of your adoration bestows upon you a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something you never dared to admit you wanted-an emotional speedball, perhaps, of thunderous love and roiling excitement.

Soon you start craving that intense attention, with a hungry obsession of any junkie. When the drug is witheld, you promptly turn sick, crazy, and depleted (not to mention resentful of the dealer who encouraged this addiction in the first place but now refuses to pony up the good stuff anymore– despite the fact that you know he has it hidden somewhere, goddamn it, because he used to give it to you for free). Next stage finds you skinny and shaking in a corner, certain only that you would sell your soul or rob your neighbors just to have ‘that thing’ even one more time.

Meanwhile, the object of your adoration has now become repulsed by you. He looks at you like you’re someone he’s never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion. The irony is, you can hardly blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You’re a pathetic mess, unrecognizable even to your own eyes.

So that’s it. You have now reached infatuation’s final destination– the complete and merciless devaluation of self.” page 20 – Eat, Pray, Love

He wasn’t the one because he never understood me. He never understood my sarcasm. He never understood that while my words are honest and straightforward, they aren’t the end all or be all of what I am saying. He never understood that he had to look deeper to understand that behind every word is just a young woman with good heart trying to find another soul that gets her. He never understood that to truly get me, is to first admit that I am a hard person to understand.

He wasn’t the one because I never found him funny. His jokes fell flat and his storytelling was atrocious. There was never a guarantee that he would lighten the mood. The twinging of his lips, the raising of his eyebrows was never enough to send my head back, hands being clapped, mouth open but no sound coming out because everyone knows that’s how I laugh when I find something truly funny. I doubt he found me particularly funny either.

He wasn’t the one because I always had to be smiling. Not every grin is a smile and that is not the only way I convey happiness. When my smile has subsided and my voice goes too soft, i’m not hurt nor am I sad. It just means i’m relaxed enough to exist and not be concerned about keeping up appearances. It means I think the interview has stopped and that silence can be comfortable.

He wasn’t the one because his lips didn’t make my world spin. His lips were forgettable. His lips were too small, too dry and left no impression. His kisses just left me thinking about the last lips that I bit and pulled. He had too much passion and I had too little. His lips just weren’t right.

He wasn’t the one because I could never sleep like a baby next to him. He never had the ability to calm my spirit, settle my mind and make me so relaxed that I could drift off into dreamland as easy as 1-2-3. Falling asleep next to him..or even better on his chest was not a desire that I had and the thought of waking up in his arms didn’t make my heart smile.